It’s always been so challenging to me that Sukkot literally commands joy. It doesn’t suggest it. It’s actually called zman simchateinu – season of our joy. What an interesting tension to hold this week. Today, the second anniversary of 7th October and in the aftermath of the attack on Heaton Park Congregation.
Yet it’s right here in our tradition. We lean in to joy when we may least feel like it. And we invite guests into the sukkah when our instinct might be to close down a little.
But neither option is available to us because we will continue to reach for joy and gratitude and connections.
I feel bereft without our synagogue sukkah this year but last night we had a magical and very packed Sukkot service and celebration chez Katz and this morning such a meaningful service with our friends at SPS.
Wishing you a joyful Sukkot, even if it’s moments in your garden and Shabbat Shalom. I’ll be in Stockholm celebrating the 20th anniversary of the community I helped to build there, which is going from strength to strength. There is joy in that.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
A few years ago, Rabbi Robert Nosanchuk suggested to his community of Anshe Chesed Fairmount Temple that, every night of the liminal ten days that float between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, one should do this:
I encourage you: before each nightfall of the ten days of repentance, prepare your testimony. Ask yourself in your heart: are you a person who defaults to truth, or do you greet most of what of what you hear people say with suspicion? Don’t judge your answer. You are who you are, and you will not have a perfect record of judgment and being judged. The mistakes we all make often lead to grudges, vendettas and long-held bad feelings. In my experience, and in keeping with Jewish tradition, it is best to scrutinise the grudges we hold and ask ourselves what they yield that is more fruitful than forgiveness and understanding of oneself and others.
We are told again and again. Yom Kippur, which begins this year on Wednesday evening, is just for us. In order to smooth things with others, we need to pick up the phone, drop a note or just open our hearts a little wider, so that we cope better with those in our lives whose ‘person tax’ gets a little high – and I suppose we would do well to imagine how our ‘tax’ might be onerous for others. Sometimes.
This is the balancing of what matters most to us and the people we live amongst. What matters is when we forget the essence of us, we can now effect some kind of teshuvah (turning) that allows us to return to ourself, to the root of our soul.
I am so looking forward to seeing you over Yom Kippur. We are back at FPS, Hutton Grove.
I wish you a meaningful day. Gmar Chatimah Tovah.
Rebecca
It was exceedingly special in so many ways being back at FPS. Please see this clip that includes Alex Kinchin-Smith’s words about being in the building and our part in it.
These ten days are opportunities to reflect and connect. We are told not to arrive at synagogue for prayer until we’ve connected with those in our lives where there’s friction and fracture. That’s not always easy but it’s an interesting challenge. These days are heightened emotionally: use this time wisely. I try, and don’t always succeed, every year. But what I do manage is to love these days and this season, a time where introspection isn’t just accepted; it’s encouraged.
See you over Shabbat Shuvah (the Shabbat of return or repentance). If you prefer nature to shul, come for Tashlich walk at Dollis Brook and let me know via Caroline () you’re joining.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
Robert Pirsig wrote in his novel Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, “We’re in such a hurry most of the time, we never get much chance to talk. The result is a kind of endless day-to-day shallowness, a monotony that leaves a person wondering years later where all the time went, and sorry it’s all gone.”
I love this sentiment. It’s so right for this season.
Having real conversations is something we care deeply about at FPS.
In the Summer, we completed our Listening Campaign, where we talked and listened to each other about what matters.
What matters to each of us and what matters in the world is what keeps us up at night and what helps us rise in the morning. Our friend, Rabbi Larry Hoffman, loves to say Jewish conversations are as important as Jewish learning and Jewish prayer. Conversations over the dinner table, however fractious, are exactly this. One of my favourite lines of Torah falls in this week’s portion, Parashat Netzavim.
‘This Jewishness, this commandment, is not too miraculous for you. It is not up in heaven…it is not across the sea that you’d need someone to go and get it and do it for you. No, it is close to your mouth and your heart to do it.”
It’s as close and easy as a conversation. That’s what the High Holy Days remind us. It is all ours, this Jewishness to which we can recommit. And amazingly, we will be back at Hutton Grove, reunited with each other and our building.
I cannot wait to see you then.
WE WILL BE HOME IN HUTTON GROVE FOR ROSH HASHANAH & YOM KIPPUR.
These weeks call on us to imagine our communities as ‘Agudat Echat’. One body, united and together. It’s good to see the Board offers such thoughtful protection. We are in anguish right now, so these weeks of consolation and comfort are needed pretty desperately.
We are in the six weeks before Rosh Hashanah now. Monday 25th will be the start of Elul. We are invited to let the walls of our souls crumble and the first glimmers of opening and breaking apart, necessary for the pre Rosh Hashanah cycle, begin. I began such a process in the most unlikely of places, on a tiny island in Finland’s archipelago, while on a meditation and yoga retreat designed to stretch our hearts wide open. And I did in anticipation of these 6 weeks – the journey which our calendar takes us to try to let the unsolved elements of our lives be solved.
This week’s portion, Eikev, reminds us that suffering accompanies us. Apparently, our clothes didn’t wear out and our feet didn’t swell during those 40 years in the desert and from that we know that times can be incredibly hard and we can access resilience. We show up even when it’s hard. I am so aware that many of you are navigating great loss and illness right now and I hope the softness of this moment in our calendar lends itself to comfort.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
This week, a letter to Prime Minister Netanyahu, written by Sir Mick David (formerly UJIA) and Mike Prashker, traditional Jews, is circulating, asking for members of communities to read and consider signing. I share it here for you.
A couple of weeks ago, I signed one written by Masorti Rabbi Jonathan Wittenberg. It prayed for this war and untold suffering to end; for young IDF soldiers not to die in a war many Israelis no longer support; for the hope that diplomacy is used once again to bring home the remaining hostages. (The appalling videos last Thursday of Rom Braslavski, thin and crying, and of an emaciated Evyatar David on Saturday only highlight this further.) Of course, the letter also prayed for the suffering, humiliation and death in Gaza to cease – and for us to bear witness to this all. There is so much suffering. I signed it because I, who love Judaism so deeply, felt it essential to protect. I feel deeply the mourning of families in Israel, anguished by the precarious safety and loss of every Israeli soldier following orders. And I am deeply distressed by all that is happening in Gaza and the West Bank. Along with Phil Rosenberg, President of the Board of Deputies, as he said only last week as he visited us, I pray for this to end.
Being rabbi to all our congregation and finding ways to include us all in our distress is so important. Remember those pockets I talked about us carrying – the balance of concerns for everyone at this time?
This week’s portion includes a repetition of the Ten Commandments and introduces the words of the Shema, that would become central to Jewish practice, to teach this love to our children and others’ children. That is what we are doing every day at FPS. We are building a future and hope that holds all our Jewish sensibilities.
Last Rosh Hashanah, I recalled the nineteenth century Jewish bibliographer, Moritz Steinschneider, who died in 1907, thirty years before the Holocaust. Yet when asked why he dedicated his life to cataloguing Jewish books, he offered that devastating answer, ‘to give Judaism a decent burial. He didn’t and nothing has and the glorious pictures of our beloved and restored synagogue on Hutton Grove affirm this love and commitment to the future that we have in our wide ranging congregation. Our return is in sight.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
Ivri, is one of the names used to describe the Israelite community in Torah. It means “Hebrew.” It also refers to ‘crossing over,’ journeying. They do that a lot but they are tiring now. The tribes of Reuben and Gad see that the land on this side of the Jordan is good for grazing cattle and ask if they can settle here, saying, al ta’avirenu, “Do not make us cross over!” (Numbers 32:5). They are tired of conquest. This last double portion of Numbers includes a great deal of journeying from A to B to C and onwards. Indeed, it’s so dry that even the prolific Rashi doesn’t comment!
For me these quieter narratives offer an opportunity to read between the lines. Moving requires an energy that is not always in great supply.
We are in a moment right now, where the Jewish community is watching and waiting for movement. Both here in the diaspora and in Israel, things are as distressing as I recall them being. Helping us talk, move positions, empathise with one another is all phenomenally difficult. The British institutions that hold us are critical for this. Progressive Judaism, newly formed, and of course, the Board of Deputies, established in 1765 by a group of Sephardi Jews, is the oldest Jewish institution we have. There has been much dissent and conversation there and this Friday night we will welcome its president, Phil Rosenberg, to our Shabbat service, where he will speak and be in conversation with us all as we navigate our ways forward as Ivri.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
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יְהוֹשֻׁעַ בֶּן פְּרַחְיָה וְנִתַּאי הָאַרְבֵּלִי קִבְּלוּ מֵהֶם. יְהוֹשֻׁעַ בֶּן פְּרַחְיָה אוֹמֵר, עֲשֵׂה לְָ רַב, וּקְנֵה :לְָ חָבֵר, וֶהֱוֵי דָן אֶת כָּל הָאָדָם לְכַף זְכוּת |
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Joshua ben Perahiah used to say: get yourself a teacher, find yourself a friend and judge all persons with the scale weighted in their favour. This line from Pirkei Avot is often quoted with good reason. One needs all three things. Someone who embodies these is John Rubinstein. I met John teaching Gideon Leibowitz his Bar Mitzvah portion. Gillian and David had spotted something in him and Gideon, after Jonty, was his first B’nei Mitzvah family. After this, he said he wouldn’t do any more; he was saving himself for his oldest grandson, Jacob, and teaching him his Torah. But I managed to persuade John. He taught Ruben (in fact all my children) and so far, there have been 80 B’nei Mitzvah who have passed through the school of John. This school involved rigorous Hebrew learning, which is permeated with discussions about football, athletics, Ancient Egypt – actually, anything the young person is interested in. When I listened to Rafael’s lessons, there was 70% sport and philosophy chat and 30% Torah but John still ensured he was utterly prepared because this special teacher has the agility to be interested too and to draw out every single child into the most special of friendships. From B’nei Mitzvah tutoring, John agreed to lead on Hebrew teaching at Ivriah. For ten years, John has delighted the children with engaging lessons and copious Oreo cookies. He has become a legend of warmth, rigour and general brilliance for his pupils and fellow students. As he retires from Ivriah this Shabbat, he will be honoured and thanked as the legendary teacher that he is. This week’s portion fits John’s legacy at FPS too. The daughters of Zelophechad are introduced in Parashat Pinchas. Their father has died, there are no male relatives and they don’t want everything to be lost. They petition Moses to inherit both the name and the possessions of inheritance. He is moved by the claim of the five sisters Machla, Noa, Hoglah, Milcah and Tirzah and so Hebrew law changes to one of [semi] equality around inheritance. John’s fierce and proud egalitarian principles have ensured there is utter parity, not only in learning, but in his connection with all his students. It has been a joy to behold. Finally at the end of the parasha, Moses is anticipating his retirement. He wonders who will replace him so ‘God’s community may not be like sheep that have no shepherd’. We are working on John’s replacement at Ivriah and we will be as creative and mindful as we can as we fill his place. Communities continue to grow and develop through cycles of leadership and so will we. Chazak, Chazak, v’NitChazeik. Shabbat Shalom, |
Watching our Kabbalat Torah group come of age this weekend was so meaningful. They chose to celebrate kiddush in the Rose Garden of FPS, the first time we have been back to the building environment, which made things start to feel real for our return in earnest in September. They really demonstrated through their engaging and musical service a future and a hope for FPS, ‘acharit v’tikvah,’ as the psalmist describes. They are growing into the creative, open-hearted Jewish adults their parents and teachers have modelled for them.
Similarly, at the ordination of this year‘s crop of rabbis, Andrea Steuer Zago Kulikovsky and Dr. Hannah Marije Altorf spoke of their destinies, dreaming of becoming rabbis. Hannah recalled a childhood memory of playing on her dining room table, which was round so no-one could sit at the head or be supreme. She likened this to Progressive Judaism being a table that we all sit around; there must be room at that table for everyone to feel at home and comfortable.
Sometimes we can’t escape our talents, our destiny, and our dreams. Balaam the prophet tries to in the narrative that describes his role. Our Bat Mitzvah, Niah, will read about him and his talking donkey this Shabbat and I’m reminded of Tony Kushner’s 1990s play, Angels in America, where an angel that is like the biblical prototype warns:
You can’t outrun your occupation, Jonah. Hiding from me in one place, you will find me in another stop down the road. I will be waiting for you…
I love that our teenagers are doing that already within our community, each expressing their desire to think deeply about who they are and who they want to be. We should all be proud of them
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
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